


In Vino Veritas

by Soule



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soule/pseuds/Soule
Summary: More requested AnaGar.Events are non-canon to the GnA storyline, but canon to ALiP.





	In Vino Veritas

A heavy wooden door stifled a cacophony of boisterous laughter. Khadgar smoothed his hand over his silver hair and pushed his back against the oak. Strands filtered through his fingers and tickled his forehead. His cheeks were warm. He gave a groan. The floor wobbled below him…or was it he who was wobbling? He closed his blue eyes, the lids hot over his cool corneas.

He took a step into his room while he tugged at the silver fasteners of his overcoat. Instead of neatly folding it and putting it away, he shrugged it off and allowed it to fall in a heap on the cool stone floor. He pushed his hair back again when it fell over his brow. He pulled his undershirt free from his belt and was in the process of pulling it off when there came a knock at the door. The Archmage scrambled to push his shirt back down and again smoothed his hair back. Spine straightened with great effort, he cleared his throat and pulled open the door just enough to see who was on the other side.

“Hi, Master!” Anarchaia’s voice flowed through her mask in a bright chirp. “I have a few tomes from that library containing some of the information you’ve been researching. You know, about the portals?”

Khadgar deflated some, relieved. “Right,” he murmured as he stepped aside to let her in despite his better judgment.

Anarchaia trotted in with a bounce in her step, a mass of books and flowing scrolls following in her wake. “So I’ve been talking with Gildwynn about the device you’ve asked him to build—he hasn’t finished it yet, sadly—and he directed me to the ruins of a great library in Azsuna…”

Her voice seemed to trail into nothingness as Khadgar again closed his door and trudged his way to his bed to pull off his boots. He brought his hands to his cheeks; his fingers were icy in comparison. His eyes closed of their own volition.

“…and so there was this specter who was _dead set_ on not letting me roam the ruins, but I was able to…” Anarchaia stopped in her pacing, the tomes and parchment slowing to float idly around her. “Um, are you unwell? I-I can come back another time if it please you.”

A moment passed before Khadgar quickly sat upright as if only just realizing she’d been speaking. He again pushed his hair back. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Please. Continue.”

The girl pushed her hood back and stepped over to him while the reading materials around her piled themselves in an impressive stack atop his writing desk. She leaned down to look into his face. “Are you sure? You seem…flushed.”

“’m fine,” he repeated in a lower tone and pursed his lips. “Juss…a little tired—”

“ _Oh my gods,_ ” Anarchaia whispered in a tone that made his stomach twist. “You’re _drunk!_ ” She tittered and clapped her hands together once with excitement. She turned, her robes swirling. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. Stay right there. I’m going to get a chess board—”A hitch in her robes kept her from walking away and her head jerked back in confusion. “Is…is something wrong?”

Khadgar’s attention flicked down. His fingers were curled tightly around her sleeve. Nervous laughter rumbling from the depths of his throat, he released her and pushed his hair from his forehead once again. _No! Nothing. My apologies. Carry on._ “Don’t go.” The same hand flew to his mouth. Had he said that aloud? Somewhere wires had been crossed.

Anarchaia tilted her head again and he could almost feel her frown. She fiddled with the button at her shoulder and slid off her glove, then rested the underside of her blue wrist against his forehead. “You should rest. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He pushed her hand away gently and did his best to give a reassuring smile. “I’m a little tipsy, Ana, not _ill_. Stop worrying over me.”

Her shoulders raised and he wished he could see her face. He imagined she was scowling at him as she was wont to do when he refused care from her. She placed her hands on his shoulders and urged him to lean back against the ornate headboard of his bed. Her outstretched palm filled with a cup which subsequently filled with water followed by two chunks of ice. “Drink and sleep,” she commanded, pushing the cup toward his face.

Khadgar furrowed his brow. He took the cup and set it atop his nightstand, glazed over eyes locked on where he knew hers to be. In one swift motion he reached up to pull off her mask. Her frustration-filled eyes and scowl flashed for only a moment before her hair fell over her face. He couldn’t help but laugh as she scrambled to push her messy tresses back. He poked her nose with a thick fingertip and she flinched. “Don’ tell me what tuh do. I’m _your_ Master, ‘member?”

Anarchaia’s lips twisted with impatience and she again put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down into his pillow. “You can be a real child sometimes, you know that?”

Khadgar’s eyes glittered mischievously as he sank. “Sticks ‘n stones, Ana.” He stuck out his tongue through his grin.

The girl hissed and grabbed the tip of his tongue with a thumb and forefinger. “And fingers of bone?” she sang in response, smirking.

The Archmage again swatted her hand away and chuckled. The taste of parchment and linen lingered. “I don’ think ‘as how the rhyme goes,” he slurred.

Her red pupils flicked between his own and her face softened.

“What?”

“Nothing. Go to sleep, Master.” She reached for her mask and he pulled it away before she could grab it. “Don’t,” she grunted as she attempted to swipe it away again but he pushed it beneath the pillow behind his head. Anarchaia _tsk_ ed and sat at the edge of the mattress, hand on her hip. “I can’t leave you to get better if you don’t give me my mask.”

“I s’pose you have to stay, then.”

She paused and flushed, then reached around the back of her head to pull her hair to one side as she looked away. “You don’t mean that.”

Khadgar’s smile faded. He blinked slowly as he gathered the effort to speak clearly. “Why do you think I hate your company so?”

Anarchaia quickly looked back up at him, brow furrowed upward. “I-I don’t!” she stammered, “I just…” She fiddled with her other glove, face shadowed in turmoil. “I know you enjoy my company—f-for the most part.”

He grabbed her elbow gently and frowned when she looked farther away. “’m not sure what I’ve got tuh do after twelve years to prove I want you ‘round.”

Anarchaia shifted her eyes to give him a sideways glance. “Is that why you haven’t promoted me? Because you _want me around_?”

Khadgar released her arm and cleared his throat, pushing himself to sit again. “I’ve told you a number of…of times.” The room swam and he pushed his hair back. “When you—”

“When I stop improving. That’s not what I meant.”

“I want you around. Is that what you wanted?”

The undead girl flushed again and covered her face with her hands. “No.”

Khadgar sighed and pulled her hand away to look into the light in her eye. “Your insecurity is painful to witness. I wish you cared about yourself as much as I care for you.”

Her brow furrowed and a look crossed her face as though she’d seen something awful. She tried to pull her hand back but he instead grasped her other hand to pull that away from her face as well. “Stop,” she breathed halfheartedly and lowered her head to hide her face with her hair instead. “I know you pity me. I know everything you say to make me feel better about myself…is because you feel badly for me.”

“I say them because you deserve to be happy, Ana.” He loosened his grasp on her wrists with caution. “Just like anyone else.”

Her eyes slid to look into his face again from beneath her brow. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I know you are. I’m telling you to stop. Worry about _you_ for a change.”

“I don’t feel fulfilled when I worry about me. I feel…helpless. Dismal. Ashamed. Lonely—”

“You’re not alone. Never.” He wrapped his arms about her torso and pulled her to him in an embrace. “I’ll always be here. You know that.”

The angle at which she’d been pulled caused her to awkwardly squish her face into his shoulder. After a long moment of apparent decision-making, she snaked her arms beneath his and turned so their chests pressed against one another. She squeezed him tightly and inhaled. “I do. Thank you.” She chuckled. “You’re quite the romantic drunk.”

The two hugged for a while. Her familiar perfume and oils filled his nose and her frail frame filled his arms. The fireplace popped and crackled periodically. The music of merriment outside his room seemed to fade into the distance. While it had been minutes, it only felt like a moment before Anarchaia pulled away and smiled down into his face. Gentle. Endearing. She placed a kiss on his forehead. “Go to sleep, Master.”

Something in him pushed his hand up between her shoulder blades and pulled her against him again, tight so she wouldn’t leave. His other lifted to push her hair from her face and run the pad of a thumb over the thread holding her forehead together.

After gazing at one another, a mutual understanding and desire blossomed between them and they kissed. Long and calm.

When he pulled away to breathe she brought a hand up to cover her mouth and looked away, her face a deep shade of pink. “I-I’m sorry,” she muttered into her palm. “I…I didn’t…”

Khadgar again grabbed her wrist to pry it from her face. He used his other hand to tangle his fingers in her hair at the back of her head and pulled her lips to his once more. The taste of the lavender based gloss she wore filled his mouth.

She returned his kiss with little hesitation, bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck and push his lips tightly to hers. Anarchaia pulled herself forward to straddle him between her thighs. Her body shuddered when he ran his hands down her sides to rest on the small of her waist.

The Archmage took in a deep breath when he pulled back, and when her eyes caught his again he couldn’t help but close the space between their lips a third time. A sound of surprise escaped her when he grabbed her by the hips and rolled. The down-filled pillow below made a quiet _poof!_ when the back of her head hit it. She made to speak but stopped when he grasped the front of her robes with his fingers and pulled. The fabric shimmered as it slid free from her body as though made of air, then solidified again when he tossed it to the floor.

Anarchaia sat up on her elbows, entranced by the action. “How did you…?”

“I’ll teach you later.” He unbuttoned her second glove and slid it off; it joined her robes on the rug. It wasn’t until he grabbed the hem of his own shirt that she looked up at him with surprise in her eyes.

“You…You want to…?”

He blinked down at her in confusion, then nodded slowly when he realized her meaning.

“With _me?_ ”

The corners of his mouth pulled into an unimpressed line and he pulled off his undershirt; it also joined the ever-growing pile of clothing on the floor.

“B-But I thought—”

“Hush.” He reached behind her to untie the laces of the shirt she wore beneath her robes. She arched her back to make it easier for him and his eyes immediately flicked to her humble breasts. Eagerly he pushed up her shirt. His face fell into a frown, however, as he revealed each of her prominent ribs with every inch he exposed. “Oh, Ana,” he whispered, his words heavy with guilt. _This is my fault._

“I-I suppose I’ve lost some weight. Not eating will do that to you. Heh.”

He looked back up into her face to see that she was smiling despite the subject. He found himself smiling back as he continued to pull her shirt off along with the collar it’d been buttoned to. His palm made a hushed sound as it traveled up the center of her body, over her stomach, her sternum and its bumps, until it finally came to rest upon her side just below her arm. Khadgar pressed his thumb into her dark teal nipple and watched her face as she inhaled sharply. A smile played at his lips when it hardened at his touch.

“I’m sorry they’re not more impressive,” she mumbled, bringing a wrist up to cover her eyes and tilt her head away.

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss the neck she’d inadvertently exposed to him. “Anything else you’d like to apologize for before we continue?”

“I’m sorry I’m not a better mage,” Anarchaia replied without missing a beat. “I’m sorry to be a burden on you. I’m sorry I’m not attractive enough. I’m sorry you have to keep this a secret. I’m sorry you have to be drunk or coerced to even think about—”

Khadgar pressed his palm over her mouth. “That’s quite enough. I was only joking.” His other hand slid down beneath her to the small of her back to pull her stomach against his chest as he leaned down. Her lips vibrated against his hand as she hummed when he brought to peak of her breast into his mouth.

She brought a hand up to the back of his head while the other pulled his palm away from her mouth before resting over her brow again. From the shadow of her arm she looked down at him. “You don’t have to do this for me,” she said in nearly a whisper.

“I’m not,” he said, sitting back up and unlacing her cloth pants. He avoided looking her in the eye. “I’m doing it for us.”

She finally moved her arm away to look up at him, brow furrowed. When he’d finished untying the laces she stared for several moments. Slowly a smile pulled at her lips and she glanced away before lifting her lower half for him to pull down her breeches.

He pulled off her boots, then the last of her clothing. Not being able to stop himself, he ran his fingers over the stitches around her thigh for the first time. “Does it hurt?” he asked after realizing he’d never once inquired in the twelve years they’d known each other.

“Not physically.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, still not looking up.

Her fingers found his at her thigh. “If I’m not allowed to apologize then neither are you.”

Their eyes finally met and they exchanged smiles. His hand again wandered up, over her stomach and back to her breast where he rolled the dark nipple there between a thumb and forefinger.

She moaned and turned her head away once more, a knuckle between her teeth. Her other fingers twisted within the quilt below her.

“It’s been said that smaller breasts are more sensitive,” he mused, his other palm running down the length of her side and a protruding hip. “Same amount of nerve endings. Smaller surface area.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she breathed. “I _couldn’t_ know.” A gasp escaped her as his fingers at her breast pressed together.

“The theory seems to hold water.” He grinned at her reaction and ran his thumb over the soft flesh between her thighs. Moisture glistened at the bottom of the slit and he pressed the digit against it, eyebrows raised. “It’s astounding how much lubrication you’re yet able to produce—”

“A-As much as I love listening to your intellectual musings, Master, perhaps save them for tomorrow? Heh.” Her lips slanted in a crooked smile. “I-It’s embarrassing…” She flinched and bit her lower lip when he squeezed at her other nipple.

“Right. Sorry.” Khadgar twisted his wrist to slip a finger inside. The heat within filled his head with memories of the night they’d last been intimate nine years prior. He opened his lips to inquire before realizing she’d just reprimanded him for his deliberations and closed them again. Instead he added a second finger and watched as her torso filled with air from her slow gasp.

His fingertips brushed against the rough patch at the top of her canal. She gasped again. And again. The heat surrounding his fingers grew more intense and there came a point where he wondered if he’d be burned. His thumb wandered up to the small bump above her entrance and she covered her mouth with her hand to moan again.

When her arm came back up to cover her eyes, he grabbed it to push it into the pillows. He kissed her collarbone and inhaled deeply to smell her strong perfume. His fingers would push in as his thumb would run down, then out and against the spot within as the other pushed up.

Anarchaia gasped and mewled with each motion. Over the minutes her cries of pleasure grew louder and longer until she was forced to again cover her mouth with a palm. She moaned a word into it that he was unable to make out. When she caught his eye again, she closed hers and turned away with her brow furrowed and face flushed.

Suddenly her chest lurched forward and the top of her head ground into the pillows while a muffled cry sounded out from behind her fingers. Her insides trembled around his digits while the outside shook with similar intensity. The button beneath his thumb pulsed and twitched. When she fell back into the mattress, he released her wrist and got to work untying his own trousers, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm. He slid them off with ease and pushed them aside, then paused when he noticed her eyes—half-lidded and glazed over—transfixed on his groin. He pursed his lips. “Now _you’re_ embarrassing _me._ ”

She chortled and tore her eyes away. “I didn’t really get to see it last time. Heh. Sorr—”

He shoved his middle and ring fingers into her mouth before she was able to finish. “Stop apologizing.”

A surprised squeak sounded from her throat but she quickly recovered, after a beat bringing her hands up to his wrist and pushing the fingers further down her throat. So far he could feel her pulse against the backmost part of her tongue. Her breath nearly steamed against his knuckles. The muscle inside curled around his digits, cleaning them of her own taste.

A bead of sweat tickled his neck and he swallowed. Unable to wait any longer, he pressed the tip of his arousal against her slick lower lips. She hummed against his hand and her eyes widened some, urging him to retract his fingers.

“W-Wait,” she stammered, hands coming to rest on his forearms. “I just climaxed. I-I need a moment—”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I really can’t.”

“I’m still sensiti— _ohhh._ ” Anarchaia moaned as he pushed into her. She grit her teeth and leaned back into the pillows.

Khadgar inhaled slowly until the cool skin of her hindquarters pressed against his thighs. He paused for a long moment, savoring the wet heat around his shaft. He removed himself as slowly as he could bear to do so, watching her breasts raise as she, too, inhaled. Her fingers dug into his arms and her thighs pressed against his hips. Pushing into her again, he groaned and leaned down to press his face into her neck. With an arm wrapped beneath her and the other bracing against the headboard, he commenced a steady rhythm.

The rush of air into her throat at each thrust was loud against his ear and the chirps louder still. Her fingers scratched at his shoulder blades but her lack of nails left him unharmed. She pressed her face into his neck as well to stifle her again growing noises. “Yes,” she’d breathe and her canal would squeeze around him on his withdrawal.

The Archmage pulled away to admire her flawed face—flushed and drunken—and she smiled and covered her eyes while laughing the word _don’t_. He pulled one of her hands away and pushed his forehead against hers. “Cut it out,” he said with a grin, the pleasure and alcohol-fueled whirling in his head mixing and making him giddy.

She bit her lip as their eyes met, then took his face into both hands before kissing him deeply. Her tongue slid along his lower lip and they moaned against one another.

He pulled away and sat up quickly enough to make the room spin. He pushed his hair back and grabbed her thigh with a hand. Gently he pulled it across himself and ushered her to turn onto her side. He furrowed his brow at the sensation of her insides spinning around him, and pushed her opposite thigh to rest between his knees; the other curled around his arm and he held it there with a gentle hand.

She looked up at him curiously. “This is new to me.”

“Is that an issue?”

“Of course not.”

He smiled and pulled out some to better position himself. He thrust back in and, without the cushion of her rear to stop him, crashed against a barrier at the back. She cried out sharply and threw her face into the pillow. His fingers tightened around her thigh as panic struck through his drunken mind. “Are you all right?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice down.

She nodded but did not remove her face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

She shook her head, then lifted it to mumble over her shoulder. “I'm okay. It's just...really deep is all. Heh.” She reached out for his hand and laced her fingers through his when he obliged. “Keep going.”

Khadgar nodded and resumed, being careful of his roughness. Every so often he'd forget himself and hit the wall at the end of her canal and she'd squeak and tighten around him. It wasn't long, however, before even with the collisions she was moaning and clawing at the sheets again. Her fingers squeezed his hand and she flashed him a genuine smile through her breathless panting.

Minutes passed and the room echoed with quiet gasps, moans, and fire crackle. He released her hand and grabbed at the thigh in front of him to hug it to his chest. With his more stable position, he drove into her with more fervor, more need. He managed to bring a hand up to push the stray hairs from his forehead to find just how moist his skin had become. He grabbed at her hip and smiled gently as she again reached for his hand; he took it and squeezed.

She smiled and buried her face to mewl loudly. “Close,” he heard her breathe.

The word sent a twinge through his core and he groaned. She cried out again and the sound sent him over the edge, spilling his climax into her furthest depths. Her canal clamped around his pulsing shaft and he struggled to thrust through the tightness--her muscles pulling him back in on his withdrawal. Their fluids mixed together and dripped down onto her thigh and hind cheek.

He collapsed to his hands and knees above her, sweaty and panting heavily. He then fell atop her and sighed tiredly into the pillow.

Anarchaia tittered breathlessly and whined at the discomfort of being pinned in such a twisted position. “No,” she groaned with a smile. “Get off me before you fall asleep.”

Khadgar grunted in response. “Good night, Ana.”

“ _Nooo_ ,” she laughed and turned to push him over with all her strength.

He chuckled and opened an eye slightly to look into her face, then rested his fingers on her thigh and closed it again.

Anarchaia sobered as she gazed down at him. She leaned down and placed a kiss on his sweaty brow, then pushed his hair back. “Good night,” she whispered and slid from the bed. She pulled the folded quilt from the footboard and draped it over his naked form. Quietly she dressed and threw his clothes into the hamper by the wardrobe. With a final look, a smile pulled at her lips and she left, locking the door behind her.


End file.
